


Hypothetically Speaking

by oddphantom



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Bondage, Dom Natasha Romanov, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Fetish Club, Impact Play, M/M, Not necessarily reader insert?, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Reader- insert, Second Person, Sex Club, Spanking, Sub Bucky Barnes, bdsm club, kind of reader insert, kink club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 05:48:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddphantom/pseuds/oddphantom
Summary: Somewhere deep in the heart of Brooklyn --although it is quite likely that you need not know where-- there is a.. club, of sorts.If you’re there, you’ve been somewhere like this before. If not, turn around and walk out. They don’t hold your hand here.Rule number one: The club safeword is Red.





	Hypothetically Speaking

**Author's Note:**

> I can now be found on tumblr, at Rogersbarnesdaily  
> come pop over and say hi or send an ask!

Somewhere deep in the heart of Brooklyn --although it is quite likely that  _ you  _ need not know where-- there is a.. club, of sorts. You can find this club on the internet, sure, they have a website, but their website won’t tell you an address. If you don’t know a member already, then you haven’t heard of it, anyway. An address would be arbitrary. If you happen upon their website without having heard of it, you’ll likely leave the website soon. You probably wouldn’t do well at this club. 

If you do know a member, you’re allowed in with a photo ID and a not unimpressive fee at the door. If you’ve been invited, you can probably afford the fee. Hopefully.

If you’re there, you’ve been somewhere like this before. If not, turn around and walk out. They don’t hold your hand here. 

Rule number one: The club safeword is Red. You’ll know this before you walk in the door. If you hear Red, you stop what you’re doing. Everyone looks and makes sure the person who called it is safe. If you ignore a safeword in a scene, you’re out the door. You face fines. 

Rule number two: No photographs. No video. No fucking around. 

Nobody in this particular club is a huge risk of that. If you’re in the club, you’re just as at liberty of being incriminated by any evidence. This isn’t a club that journalists or novices know how to infiltrate. Not with the background checks, run by the most secure technology there is. Yes, that technology. Designed by exactly who you think. 

Once you walk in the doors, there are some ground rules. Not listed on the plate on the walls of every room, as the others are, but ones you should know.

One: You’re going to see familiar faces. You won’t say a fucking word about it. If you’re in the club, you’re either a politician, a celebrity, or unreasonably rich for no reason. (Read: a politician).

Two: You’ll want to show up on the second Friday of every month. There are events every night from Thursday through Sunday, but you’ll want to come to at least one of these Fridays. Why? Because they’ll be scening. 

They come there almost every week, of course. To socialize, to supervise, and --God, help you-- sometimes to watch. 

But they only scene once a month. You’ll want to be there. 

You’ll know it’s them, but you won’t say a fucking word about it. If you’re there, you shouldn’t be too starstruck, anyway. It’s possible, though. You’re certainly not as famous as them. 

They draw crowds every time. Not because of who they are. Not because of what they do when they’re not there. 

They draw crowds because they’re among the most skilled members of the club, and they’re absolutely beautiful. 

You may even find two of them alone on a random given night. But, on the second Friday of the month, they’re all together. They make time for this, the same way you will.

You cannot pay them to Dominate or Submit for you, as you may with other Dominatrices and Submissives in the club, but you’ll wish you could. You’ll wish it from the moment you first see them together. 

They are, after all, absolutely beautiful. The Submissive’s Master and Mistress are dressed head to toe in leather, if you can call the small amount of actual covering on their bodies  _ head to toe.  _  It looks like it was made for them, and they sit on top of such an impressive amount of money, it’s not unlikely that the items were. 

They can, after all, afford three memberships every month. 

The submissive will have his hair braided back lovingly while he sits, nearly naked, on top of the spanking bench that he may or may not be tied to only minutes later. He’ll look the most serene you think anyone ever could when his Mistress braids his hair back, but that’s because you’ll not have seen him in subspace yet. 

As she braids his hair, their partner will be readying tools. He’ll be re- cleaning the ones he cleaned earlier that day. Sometimes, if you’re very, very, lucky, he’ll be setting industrial strength rope through a suspension rig. Sometimes he’ll be adjusting a Saint Andrew’s cross. 

This particular week, while the most coveted Submissive in the club is being doted upon by his Mistress, his Master is feeding rope through a pulley system attached to the ceiling. Each time he gets near enough to excuse it, he places a hand on his Submissive’s relaxed thigh. He murmurs at him, but to your great dismay, you won’t be able to understand. They do not try to put on a show, this group. If you don’t hear them, that’s your loss. It was not for your ears anyway. Do not ever forget that you are being  _ allowed  _ to witness this. You are entitled to nothing. 

The Domme of this group is more than happy to remind anyone of this who steps out of line. You will hear rumors that she owns the club. They’ll never be confirmed or denied. 

Hair tied back and posture relaxed, the Submissive will almost always reach back and touch the uniform braid his hair is in. You’ll note he has gorgeous hair. It’s important to also note not to say this to anybody but yourself, lest you offend any of the three. They’re not easily offended, but they’re all quite possessive. 

The third unspoken rule of this club? This is one particular submissive you don’t want to be caught disrespecting. 

Firmly but carefully, the Submissive will be arranged into some of the most gorgeous bondage you’ve ever seen. The Submissive’s Master teaches classes here, monthly, on bondage safety and impact play. He’s a friendly guy, if you get to know him. 

This particular Friday, his Master fashions a harness across his chest, and binds his arms behind his back, at the elbows and then the wrists. The rope is pulled back around to his elbows, and from there is attached to a pulley in the ceiling. With a quick- release knot, of course. It would come down immediately if the loose end was pulled on properly. 

Really, you should take the classes. They’re very informative. 

The Submissive’s Mistress, during all this time, stands behind or beside the Submissive. She pets his hair and caresses his face sweetly. The tiny, black underwear they have him in can hardly be called a brief, and it gets slightly more tight as the ropes around his chest and arms do. 

Before the pulley in the ceiling is tightened, and the Submissive is forced to stand on his toes-- before the first implement is used to fill his skin in black and blue marks and the room with  _ gorgeous  _ wails-- before  _ any  _ of that, comes the collar. 

It’s heavy- looking, and the only thing that stays exactly the same in every scene that they do. The Mistress looks at him in his bondage and says, “Are we missing something here, love?” 

The Submissive nods, as if he hadn’t known all along that they’d give it to him. 

She nods, “Mm. Yeah, we are. Why don’t you ask your Master very nicely if he’ll collar you?” 

The Submissive’s Master turns the collar over in his hands, playing with the buckle and the ring attached to the front. 

The Submissive says, “Sir,” and the look the two exchange is breathtaking even for you. You cannot imagine how the two must feel. “Sir, may I please have my collar?” 

His Master smiles kindly and puts a hand against his cheek, thumb resting on his lower lip. The Submissive doesn’t take it into his mouth, he knows better. “You’d like your collar, baby?” 

“Yes, Sir,” The Submissive breathes. 

His Master nods and says, “Of course you can. What’s your safeword?”

“Red.” 

“Are you safewording right now?” His Mistress clarifies. 

“No, Mistress,” He smiles. 

As his Master wraps the collar around his neck, the room ritualistically falls silent. The demeanor of everyone involved in the scene will change. You could hear a pin drop, but everyone is so frozen in place and captivated that you wouldn’t notice. 

The Submissive’s Master could be considered an expert at flogging. He teaches it, he studies it, and, without thinking too hard about the implications of this, he evidently  _ does it  _ quite often. He’s a natural. 

So his Submissive should know that that’s what he reaches for. The amount of tails, though, the thickness of the leather, is entirely a mystery.

Because you’re lucky, this particular day he reaches for a leather flogger with many thick, bruising tails. All preamble is abandoned once the collar is in place, and that’s why they do that last. 

The first blow is directed at the wide expanse of his back. The Submissive is facing towards you, so you can’t see the redness that blooms across his back, but you can  _ hear  _ the blow, and most importantly, you can hear the Submissive. 

He’s vocal even as the warmup blows are falling. They’re not hard yet, not quick or frantic, but he whimpers anyway. He whines and says,  _ oh,  _ so often you’d think it was his first time on the stage. 

His Master begins to hit him with more force, more quickly, and if you really,  _ really  _ look at him, you’ll see that the slack- jawed, twisted face he’s making is something of a bastardized smile. His Master begins to step around him slowly, beating his ass, his thighs, his stomach. Not hard enough to leave welts, but enough to make him a lovely shade of pink. 

His Mistress watches this, watches her Submissive smile while he’s being beaten, and over his head, she catches his Master’s eyes. She smiles with closed lips and glances at the table upon which the Submissive’s Master had laid all of the toys they might’ve used that day. He nods and lowers the flogger, approaching his Submissive to touch the reddened skin of his back, his thighs, his stomach, before setting it down and grabbing another. 

The Submissive takes a very deep breath, and you’ll want to warn him about what his Master had just picked up. You’re reminded of the best literary examples of dramatic irony that you’ve ever studied. 

The Submissive’s Mistress approaches him and runs her hands over his skin. She says, “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

The Submissive  _ smirks.  _ You want to warn him again. “We haven’t exactly done much, Ma’am,” He jokes. She hums. 

“I suppose we haven’t.”

While she’s still caressing him, and he’s moving his hips absently into the open air, the Submissive’s Master examines the second flogger he’d picked up. It was only one or two strands of thin leather, and it probably could’ve rather been referred to as a  _ whip,  _ if one wanted to get technical. 

As he’s smiling and relaxing against his Mistress, his Master lays a sharp, loud stripe from the whip against his back and he  _ wails.  _

He doesn’t see it, but his Mistress and his Master share a smile above his head. 

Inexplicably, he’ll mewl, “More, please, Sir,” while looking straight into his Mistress’s eyes. She’ll nod approvingly and his Master will set about laying stripes across his back once again. They’re loud, and you can hear them over the sound of him grunting and whining every time. You’ll have seen this kind of play before. If you’re at the club, it’s likely you’ve given  _ and  _ received this kind of impact play, and many times. 

Perhaps it’s the synchronization between the three of them, or the absolute admiration that radiates throughout the room when the Submissive turns around desperately towards his Master to stare at him and keep his eyes open the next time a blow lands. He moans, of course, loudly, but he keeps his eyes open and on his Master. His Master takes pause. 

“Please, can- can I have-” His gaze switches between his Dominants frantically. 

“Specifics,” His Mistress chastises. 

He nods. “Yeah, I- Yes, Mistress,” He mumbles, “I was wondering if- can I have Mistress, ah, touch me, while you hit me, Sir?” 

His Mistress will look at him with a smug smile while his Master looks almost pitying. “Not yet, angel,” his Master will coo, “We want you just a little lower first.” 

When he protests, “But I- Sir, I haven’t… I just, _please?_ I can’t-” his Mistress will quiet him. The best way she knows how.

The  _ crack  _ of her hand across his cheek will be heard through the entire room. The Submissive’s head will be forced to the side and he’ll attempt to flinch away before his bound arms stop him. In the most beautiful and serene show of submission that you’ll ever see, will only take a moment to choke out a broken, wanton moan before taking a deep breath and standing up straighter. He’ll put his head back down and say, “Thank you, Mistress,” breathily, and mean it. 

His Master will continue hitting him with the same flogger until his posture sags again. His Mistress will take the next turn, covering the front of his body, exactly where you can see it beautifully, in straight, uniform cane strokes. 

While she hits him, the Submissive’s Master will stand on whichever side of his she’s not beating, and wrench his head back by the hair. He’ll grumble into his Submissive’s ear while he’s being welted by the cane. The cane is a particularly cruel choice, and she wields it unkindly. She snaps her wrist softly and rhythmically and it brings her Submissive to ugly, messy sobbing in moments.The Submissive will melt into his Master’s arms. You’ll want desperately to know what he’s saying. 

Were it any other group playing, they’d be shouting their praise and insults across the stage so the people in the next  _ room  _ could hear. 

However, this is not another group. This is not an acted show for you. You’re lucky to be in this room. Remember that. 

You’ll hear the Submissive, of course, as he cries and nods and makes weak, sobbing noises in agreement with whatever his Master is saying to him. He begins to beg again. 

It's little more than a continuous litany of  _please, please, please,_ _Master, please,_ so quickly that the words become nonsensical. 

His Master smiles and his Mistress stops hitting him for a moment. He pants and his eyes go wide. His Master says, "Ask your Mistress what you just asked me." 

The Submissive looks between them nervously. His mouth gapes a little bit, like he's starting to drift. "I- I was asking if I could, uh.." he trails off. 

"You could what? Come?" His Mistress taunts. He nods cautiously. 

"Didn't your Master just tell you no?" 

He puts his head down in defeat. She grabs a fistful of hair from the back of his head. "Answer me." 

He whines when she tightens her grip on his hair, and he shifts his hips absently into the space between them. "He did, Mistress. He said no already." 

"You just thought you'd ask again?" 

He shrugs. His Master laughs softly from behind him. "Needy little brat, aren't you?" 

The Submissive shakes his head. "N-no Sir, 'm not a brat, Sir." 

"You certainly aren't quite  _good,_ are you?" His Master says. His Mistress gets close to him and threatens, "If I hear you tell your Master he's wrong one more time I'm going to gag you, belt you until you bleed, and leave you tied up here. Got that?" 

Even the Submissive's Master raises a surprised eyebrow. Their Submissive shudders and moans at the words alone and nods silently. 

You'll want to see that. You really will. You won't get to. 

Once he's calmed enough, dropped far enough to the somewhere in his head that he was going to, his Dominants decide he's just about done. his Master and Mistress touch his cock at the same time- still wearing those damn panties- and you’ll wish to a God you don’t believe in that you could know exactly what his cock looks like. You don’t know whether you want to see him, to  _ be  _ him, or to Dominate him. All three. 

You’ll get to do none of those things. You watch them stand on either side of him and he cries as they push him so close to the edge. His Mistress will finally rake her fingernails across the sensitive skin of his back at the same time his Master tightens his grip on his cock and says, "Right now," 

When he finally comes, it’ll be with a high, hoarse cry. He’ll sag backwards so that the ropes hold most of his weight. This is when his Master will reach for the rope’s quick release, and make eye contact with his Submissive’s Mistress before pulling it. She’ll catch him when he sags down into her body. 

Whether or not he’s thanking the both of them breathlessly and sincerely and more sweetly than you’ll ever have heard is not for you to know for certain. 

After this, most of the crowd will have dissipated. Nobody would blame you for thinking the show was over. However, you may want to stay. 

When they come out of a recovery room shortly after, the Submissive will still be lingering in subspace. He’ll still be nearly naked, but in soft cotton boxers and with a huge blanket around his shoulders. His Dominants will have changed into loungewear. You’ll watch in awe as the Submissive’s Dominants sit on a couch together in the main area and their Submissive collapses gratefully onto the floor at their feet. His Mistress will pull the elastic out of his mussed-up, sweaty hair. She’ll rest her head on her fellow Dominant’s shoulder while she separates the braid strands with her fingers. Their Submissive will be held up by their legs on either side of him on the floor, and the Submissive’s Master will use one hand to pull his Mistress’s head to him. He’ll kiss her hair softly and she’ll rest her head further on his chest.

His other hand will be touching his Submissive’s hair, his face, his chest. He’ll eventually pull their Submissive up onto the couch with them to sit across both of their laps. The Submissive’s Mistress will stroke his hair soothingly and whisper to him. You may be able to guess what she’s saying to him. He's truly beautiful. You've never seen such a dynamic as theirs before. Similar ones, certainly, but none quite as ingrained. No Submissive quite so relaxed and loved.

Eventually, often as not, the Submissive will fall asleep. When he does so, you’re probably safe to go chat up his Dominants. Do so quietly. Make it interesting. If you go up to them and tell them how  _ hot  _ and  _ sexy  _ the scene was, you’ll be told off very quickly. 

They will welcome you to compliment their use of the implements they decided upon that day. They’ll welcome comments on their rope bondage. Now would be a great time to ask about those classes. 

You may befriend them, even. You may only ever watch them from the polite distance of fifteen feet away from the base of the stage. (That being Official Rule number Three)

When you get home, you'll almost certainly stick a hand down your pants and frantically get yourself off. You poor little thing. You’ll think for one  _ fleeting  _ moment, that you really wish you were in that fucking scene today. 

Whatever you do, though? 

You won’t say a fucking word about them. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time trying something quite like this, so I hope you enjoy!


End file.
